Behind the Mask
by AngryPurpleFire
Summary: Arthur Pendragon used to be a prince. Now, he's a slave. Merlin used to be a prince that hated slavery. Now, he owns one.
1. Chapter 1

I pause, watching the young man with a mix of interest and pity. He shuffles his feet unconsciously, avoiding any sense of eye contact. After a long moment of silence, the slave finally lifts his head. He has a nice face. It's pale, but not too pale, with the slightest of freckles on his cheeks. His hair is a light brown, though, that may just be because of the dirt painting it's surface. He's thin, too thin, though that is to be expected with any slave. No one wastes food on them.

"Your room is through that door." I wave to the wooden door on the far side of my chambers. It's the antichambers, meant for servants who stayed during the night. Most of those rooms are no longer is use, seeing how slaves now replaced most of those serving jobs.

The boy nods carefully, trading glances between me and the door. I sigh, not enjoying the prudent silence. "I understand that many masters do not allow their slaves to speak, but unlike them, I do not find anything more boring then basically living with a man who might as well be mute. You are free to speak as you wish."

He looks confused for a moment before nodding, then adding a mumbled, "Yes, master."

"There's no need for that." The slave looks even more confused. "You may call me sire or milord, not master." He nods again. "What's your name?"

The slave hesitates, "A-Arthur, milord."

"Arthur, a nice name." I smile, trying to ease the boy's nerves, though it seems to have the opposite effect. I sigh. "You may go ahead into your chambers for tonight. You've traveled a long way. You'll start your duties tomorrow."

Arthur looks surprised, grateful, and a bit suspicious, but allows himself to exit through the door and into his room. I rub a hand across my face, exhaling loudly. What have I gotten myself into?

**~o~**

_The second I see the slave, I can't get him out of my head. He looks like all the other men lined up in a row for my fathers picking, but he sticks out. There's something about him, something I can't put my finger on. My father, King Calek, picks out a handful of slaves to work in the kitchen, picking most of the healthy women and a few men. He is not one of them. The slavers are about to leave with their gold when I stop them, leaning into my father.  
_"_Sire, the slave-," I read the number hanging from his neck, "number 57, with your permission, milord, I would like him to become my personal slave. I lack one."_

_My father looks at me, obviously confused. He had offered me many slaves before, but I had always turned them down. I never liked slavery. He nods after a moment, adding a few gold to slaver's greedy hands._


	2. Chapter 2

I open the anti-chamber doors, not expecting to be tackled almost immediately. I raise an eyebrow at the man when he put a knife to my throat. Where he got the knife, I have no idea. I grab the slave's thin wrist, making the knife stop before it has a chance to slit my throat, as I'm sure that was the goal. The slave attempts to jumps back, but my hold on him stops the action. His eyes are wide with fear as the sharp utensil is taken from his tight grasp.

"What was that?" I ask sharply, standing up from the ground. Arthur doesn't answer as he crawls backwards, his back hitting the wall in fear. I close my eyes and let out a sigh, looking to the food now fallen on the ground. "I was bringing you breakfast, and you try and kill me?" He looks away, no doubt expecting me to end his life for this. "I do not want to hurt you, Arthur. I understand that you are not here by choice, far from it, but that does not give you the right to commit murder and treason. Clean up this mess. I'll have someone send up another meal."

With that, I dismiss myself, ignoring the astonished look stapled to the slaves face.

**~o~**

"Would you prefer the red or the blue, milord?"

I look up from my desk and to the blonde slave next to my wardrobe. He has bathed since his arrival, revealing his true features. His hair is infact blonde, very blonde. That fact that I considered it brown just seems absurd. It's been cut so it rests just above his ears, rather than hanging down towards his chin.

"Red will be fine, Arthur." The slave nods, putting the blue shirt back into the closet. I stand up from my place behind the desk, walking until I'm covered by the dressing screen. I pull off the current shirt I'm wearing, folding it across the top of the screen. "The shirt, please?"

The red shirt is thrown over the screen and into my chest where I catch it awkwardly. I roll my eyes as I pull the shirt over my head, walking out from behind the screen. "Why can't you ever just hand me my clothes like a good little slave?"

"Cause," Arthur begins, grabbing the shirt I had folded on top of the screen. "That would require me to walk over to the screen, and I was over by the fireplace at the time, sire. It is simply more productive for me to toss the clothing to you." The slave grins. "I simply wish to please you, milord."

I roll my eyes once again, "Or you're just a lazy sod." The statement only makes Arthur's grin larger. It's been six months since he became my slave. He's come a far way since his attempted murder. He had been very quiet after that, acting the part of the perfect slave. This was no doubt to avoid any punishment for his action. Over time, though, he had become more and more comfortable around me. I think he had finally realized that I really wasn't going to hurt him.

"Arthur?" The slave turns in his work, "Where did you live, before you became a slave?"

He tenses, his fists clenching slightly. "Camelot."

"Camelot?" I raise an eyebrow, "Camelot is an enemy kingdom. The slavers wouldn't dare enter Uther's kingdom just to kidnap peasants."

Arthur pauses, "I was on a patrol, I think. It was a very long time ago."

"How long?"

He pauses again, "Seven years."

"You've been a slave for seven years?" Arthur nods, "Wait- a patrol? Were you a knight?"

"In some senses, yes."

"In some senses?"

"Must we speak of this? My past is something I keep locked up for my own good and I would appreciate it if you didn't go picking in places you didn't belong." The slave doesn't give me a chance to respond before he grabs my dirty clothes and exits the room.

He had told me before that he was seventeen years old, only a year younger than myself. If he was taken by the slavers seven years ago, that would be he was ten when it happen. I cringe slightly. The idea of a ten year old being kidnapped and forced into such a cruel position is sickening.

Wait- ten? How was he a knight after only ten summers? Perhaps he was an apprentice. That would explain the 'in some senses'. Most apprentices aren't allowed on patrols here. Perhaps things are different in Camelot.


	3. Chapter 3

"_Father, what is the meaning of this?!" I watch in horror as the guard connects the whip with the pale skin of my slave's bare back. He lurches forward in his bonds, whimpering in pain as another stroke is delivered._

"_He disobeyed a direct order from a knight and must be punished for his insolence. Twenty lashes."_

"_But father-!"_

_My father turns to me with angry eyes. "Do you dare question my_

_verdict?" _

_I hesitate before shaking my head. My father will not give in, I know that. I can only watch as the blood runs down my slaves back as he cries out in anguish and pain._

**~o~**

"Do I have a council meeting today?"

"No, sire, but you do have a training session with the Black Knights." Arthur supplies as he makes my bed, folding the covers over mattress. The Black Knights was the title given to a group of warriors who wield great extents of magic: sorcerers.

"Ugh, really?"

Arthur smiles slightly, "Oh, come now, sire. It can't be too bad. After all, it's just a few pathetic pieces of men trying and failing to perform magic in the hot summer sun. Sounds like great fun!"

"You better hope so, because you're coming with me." He looks like he's going to argue, but I stop him before he has a chance to respond. "If I have to deal with this idiots all day, so do you."

"You've never brought me before."

"Well, you know what they say. There's a first time for everything, now hurry up and set up the field for practice."

**~o~**

_Arthur cringes and stifles a whimper as I play the cool cloth against his stricken back. As gently as I can, I clean away the drying blood, wrapping his back in the thick bandages. _

"_I'm sorry," I pause, not sure how to continue. "I tried to stop it, I really did, but my father would not stand down." Arthur does not respond.  
_"_It would be best if a proper physician saw to you, but my father does not allow slaves such privileges. I was able to get some supplies from Edwin though, along with some pain killers that might do you good."_

_The slave drinks the potion, clenching his lips at the horrid taste. He sets the cup down, leaning up with a grimace. He avoids my eyes. "Thank you." It's soft enough that I barely hear it. "For, uh, taking care of me."_

_I smile softly. This was only the beginning._


	4. Chapter 4

"What's this?"

Richard, a large man with a slight scruff of a beard, turns towards me. He smiles, points towards the blonde slave, fallen on the ground. "Needed a movin' target, milord."

I raise an eyebrow, "You could of killed him with those spells."

Richard shrugs, "He's just a slave. It don't really matter. There be plenty more of them up for the takin', sire."

"He isn't just a slave, he's my slave. He is my responsibility. If you lay another hand upon him, _Sir _Richard, I swear to you, you will lose your own."

Richard's eyes go wide. He nods apprehensively before nearly running away from the scene. I sigh, making my way over to Arthur, who had since sat up into a sitting position. He eyes me surprisingly, struggling to stand up. I stop him, placing an arm on his shoulder to force him down. He flinches away from my touch as I move closer to the wound: A nasty burn covering his arm. I whisper a spell, making my eyes glow gold and the burn on his arm to calm. It's still there, but the size is minimized and no longer burning in pain.

Arthur struggles out of my touch, standing up and backing away. "You- You used magic on me."

"It was a magical wound that would not of healed with other methods."

"I'd rather burn than be touched by your evil witch-craft." Arthur backs away, eyes angry and fearful.

"Arthur," I use a calm voice, "You've known about my magic for a long time. I don't need permission to use it on you."

"You know how much I hate it! You know how much I've lost because of it, and you dare use it on me! I thought you were different, but you're just like the rest of your kind. A monster!"

"Don't you dare." I take three large steps, grabbing his wrist with a tightening hold. He jerks away, but my grip holds tight. "Don't you dare call me a monster. I'm not a monster. Uther Pendragon is a monster."

"Uther Pendragon is a better man than you'll ever be!"

My magic boils under my skin, anger glistening at every curve and corner of my body. How _dare _he. Arthur winces as I tighten my hold on his wrist. I know I need to send him away before my anger gets the better of me. "Go back to my chambers and straight to the room. I won't be needing your services tonight."

"Your sending me to my room? I'm not a child."

I pull him closer, gritting my teeth. "It is not your job to question my

word. I am a prince and you are nothing but a dirty slave. Most masters would of had you executed by now. Be grateful." I release the grip on his wrist furiously. The blonde slave stumbles away, seething with anger and what almost looks like an unshed layer of tears glistening in his eyes.

"Yes, _milord_." He says it with disgust pulsing at each syllable. Arthur turns away at last and heads towards my chambers.

**~o~**

"_You- You're a sorcerer." The slave's eyes go wide, eyes filled with confusion, hurt, and fear._

"_Yes, I thought you would of known that." Arthur merely stares at the candle I had litten without even a spell._

"_You didn't even use a spell."_

"_No," I look away slightly, "I'm different. I was born with magic. Everyone here in Azura knows that. I suppose I just assumed you did as well." The slave doesn't speak, "Magic is legal here, unlike many of the other kingdoms that make up Albion. You should get used to it."_

_Arthur nods hesitantly, walking into the antichambers._


	5. Chapter 5

"Do- Do you really think Uther's a monster?" The anger is gone from his voice, faded after a night's rest.

I hesitate. "He's killed so many innocent people, my people, for nothing."

"They practiced magic."

"So what? They never hurt anyone. Many people only healed and helped. Very few actually used their magic for evil."

"Magic corrupts."

"Power corrupts."

"When I lived in Camelot, we were always under attack by sorcerers who wanted to kill the king."

"Can you really blame them." Arthur looks at me, shocked. "Think about it. If there was a man who ripped apart your family, burned your wife, drowned your children, wouldn't you want revenge? Wouldn't you want to kill the man who killed the people you love?" Arthur looks away now, apprehension clear in his eyes. "Besides, only those willing to kill, craving power come to Camelot. The rest are not brave enough, or perhaps, not stupid enough. Most stay away."

"So what is your answer then? Do you think he is a monster?"

I scrunch my eyebrows together, "I- I don't know. I think that Uther wants what is best for his people, but does not realize that those with magic are his people as well. I think he is blinded by hatred, and I do not think he is fit to rule." Arthur tenses slightly. "I hate him with all my heart, but I do not think he is a monster."

"Why did you say he was then?"

I look up at him, "You said I was a monster. Did you mean that?"

The slave pauses, breaking eye contact. "No, no I did not."

"There you go then."

**~o~**

"_You don't like magic do you?" Arthur stops folding my clothes. He pauses for a moment, as if thinking._

"_What makes you say that?" _

"_A few days ago, when you found out about my magic, you were terrified." I look up at the slave, whose hands are shaking slightly._

"_No, no I don't."_

"_Why?" _

_Arthur hesitates before tilting his head upwards and locking his eyes onto my own. "Magic killed my mother."_

_My questioning look turns to one of pity and understanding "I am sorry, truly." Arthur only nods in response before continuing his chores. I can only wonder if he believes me._

"_I lost my mother as well, when I was very young." I hesitate before continuing, "King Uther captured her during the beginning of the Great Purge. She had been visiting Camelot as a representative for my father, who was unable to go himself. She didn't have magic, but Uther didn't care. He had her burnt at the stake. I didn't understand the implications myself at the time. I was only five."_

_The slave does not speak, but he looks up to me, and I see it in his eyes. It's not fear or anger, but compassion._


	6. Chapter 6

"What's got you in such a bad mood, sire?" I huff, ignoring the slave. "Perhaps you would like to talk about it?" I ignore him again. "You shouldn't let it bubble up. You need to let it out."

"Will you shut up!?" I sigh, rubbing my hands across my face. "Sorry, it's just, Uther." Arthur flinches slightly at the name. "He's sending more troops here. It's not even his land! Why would he care if we practice sorcery! We're not hurting him. He comes in here, and kills so many innocent people. Many of them do not even practice magic! We'll be able to hold them off, but many good people will perish."

Arthur pauses for a second, as if thinking. He hesitates, scrunches his eyebrows together before closing his eyes, letting out a short breath. "I can stop him."

I raise an eyebrow at the blonde slave. "How could you possibly stop Uther Pendragon. Yes, I get that he was your king, but that doesn't mean he will listen to you. Uther is a stubborn man. Besides, it's much too dangerous. Slaves aren't allowed to have weapons, and I refuse to send you into a battle field empty handed."

"You underestimate me, sire."

"I won't have you walking into a death trap, Arthur. You will stay here. That is an order." The blonde slave stares, a little angry before nodding.

**~o~**

_Arthur sets down my dinner, filling my glass with wine before placing the jug back down on the table. I take a few bites of the juice filled meats, sparring the slave a glance. He's still skinny, much too skinny, even after a month in my possession. I feed him well, but obviously not enough. "Arthur, sit down. Eat some. I'll never be able to finish this all." It's true enough. I'm never able to finish the meals._

"_Sire, I- uh."_

"_Sit Arthur. I always feel bad about wasting food when people are starving out there, so eat, and that's an order." The slave hesitates, obviously conflicted, before sitting across from me at the table. He glances up at my, as if for confirmation. I only nod, raising my eyebrows in anticipation. He grabs a plate, placing a sliver of meat onto it, making me roll my eyes. _

_I stand up, trying to ignore how Arthur flinches, and cut out a large chunk of chicken. I put it on the plate next to a handful of grapes I throw on as well. The slave's eyes go wide at his, hesitating only for a moment before beginning to eat, or rather, devour._

**~o~**

"What happen?"

I sigh, rubbing a hand through my hair. "We won, to an extent. They retreated back into the valley. Knowing Uther, though, he'll send them right on back over here once reinforcements show up. The outer villages won't survive another attack. I don't know what to do. My father would."

"Edwin said it was just a nasty cold. He'll get better."

"He said that two months ago, Arthur. He- He get's weaker by the day. One of these days, I'm going to walk in on a corpse and I'll be lost forever. This kingdom is nothing without a king."

"You'll be king."

"And a pathetic one at that. My people are dying and there's nothing I can do."


	7. Chapter 7

"Where are you going."

I pause at the familiar, usually comforting voice, gripping the map in my hand before placing the folded paper in my bag. "Nowhere."

"Then why are you packing?"

"I'm not." Arthur raises an eyebrow at that, trading glances between myself and the travel bag on my bed. I sigh. "Camelot."

"Take me with you." Now it's my turn to raise my eyebrow as I turn to face the blonde slave. "Please, Merlin, please. I haven't been there since I was a child. I need to see it again, please."

I've never seen him so desperate before, making me hesitate. "You can't. What if someone recognized you?"

"They won't, I promise. I'll keep my head down, wear a cloak if I must. Please. Camelot is- was my home. Just to see it one more time would mean more to me then you could ever imagine. Please, Merlin."

I sigh, closing my eyes. "Fine. Ready the horses. We leave at first light, and don't be late."

**~o~**

"What's it like in Camelot." I ask, staring into the small fire of our camp. We'll arrive tomorrow if our luck is good. I can only hope Uther is willing to sign the treaty.

"It's beautiful. The castle, it's magnificent, and the land, the hills. I've never seen anything like it. The knights are loyal and the people and kind. Even the smell. Camelot is unlike anything else."

I don't look up, continuing to glare at the flames. I've never seen him like this before: so happy. I'd always thought he liked Azura. Perhaps not at first- not at all, at first- but after awhile, as we slowly became friends, I thought he may of grown fond of the kingdom. How wrong I was. "You really miss it, don't you?"

Arthur pauses, looking towards the direction of the city. "More than anything."

"You could run, while I'm asleep. You could run all the way back to your kingdom, be free of me forever."

He hesitates before giving a slight grin. "You'd be eaten by a bear if I wasn't keeping watch."

I give a slight laugh, meeting the boy's eyes before frowning again. "When this is all over, when I leave Camelot, I want you to stay here."

"What?" Arthur's eyes widen in confusion. "I-I don't understand."

"You've always been a good friend to me, Arthur, and it's about time I pay that back. It's wrong for me to keep your against your will, especially when you have a home you could return to. I cannot free all the slaves, not when my father still breaths, but I can do this for you. Stay in Camelot. Find your family. Be free."

Nothing is said for the longest time. "I- I don't know what to say. Thank you, Merlin. Just... thank you."


	8. Chapter 8

"You are a knight from the kingdom of Azura, yet you come into my land. This is an act of treason. What brings you here." Uther's finger's curl on the arm of his throne.

"I am from Azura, yes, but I am no knight. I am Prince Merlin, the current regent in my father's sickness, and I wish to offer a treaty between our lands: a peace offering. This bloodshed has gone on long enough. The time for fighting is over." Arthur stands at my side, not willing to leave my side until it my time for my departure. "Enough innocents have perished. Let us end this war for good."

Uther starres, fury in his eyes. "You dare come here, sorcerer, preaching peace for the land. It is no secret that the prince has magic. I know your kind. You come here speaking of a treaty, yet you would see me dead. You will burn for your insolence. Guards!" My eyes go wide as the Camelot guards grab my arms. "Take him to the dungeons. He will be executed at dawn."

"You kill me and you'll have the whole of Azura to answer, too."

"Your kingdom is nothing without a ruler. Soon your king will die and Azura will be our for the taking."

I shake my head at the angry king. "Then you haven't met my knights. They will hunt you down, and they will not rest until you are dead."

Uther sneers, "I will deal with your knights later. Nothing will keep me from hearing your screams. You will die."

"No, father." My head snaps up at the familiar voice. Arthur. The blonde's breathing heavily, not reaching my eyes. "No."

"How dare you!" Uther seeths, now starring at the slave. A flash of something, almost recognition flashes in the king's eyes. "Arthur?" My friend nods solemnly before the king approaches him. How did the king know him? Perhaps he was a knight, but still. And why'd Arthur call him father? The king cups his hand around the blonde boy's cheek, tears forming in his eyes. "My son, is it really you?"

My eyes go wide. Arthur was his son? Arthur... Prince Arthur... Prince Arthur Pendragon. The little boy who went missing nearly seven years ago, whose father sent out over a hundred patrols, who was never found. How could I not of noticed? How...

Arthur nods, tears in his own eyes as his arms wrap around his father. Uther returns the hug, running his hand through his long lost son's hair affectionately.

At last, the king releases his hold on Arthur, gripping the blonde's shoulders tightly, yet gently at the same time. "What happened? You- You've been gone so long. I- I thought you were dead."

Arthur looks towards the ground. "I... I was captured by slave traders." Uther's face turns red as he glances towards me. "No- no, he's not, I mean-"

"You. You kept my son as your slave!" He approaches quickly, not giving me a chance to prepare for the blow before it sends me to the ground; the guards have since released their hold on my arms. A kick to the nose causes crack to be heard and a whimper to escape my lips.

"No! Father! You don't understand! He didn't- Merlin, He..."

The king doesn't listen. His gloved hands grip my over coat as he pulls me upwards and slams me against the wall. My vision is blurry, but I do my best to focus on the angry king. "How dare you. You vermin. You- You dirty sorcerer. I'll kill you. I swear I will."

"Please, no! Father!" I'm thrown to the ground once again, my head cracking against the stone floor. I can feel the blood. Oh, it hurts.

"He took away your freedom. He kept you as a slave. You want me to grant him mercy?"

"He was good to me, father. He treated me like a friend, not a slave. He did not starve me. He did not... take advantage of me like others who owned me. He took care of me when I was injured. He never punished me, even when I disobeyed his orders. He showed me kindness when no one else would. He freed me. He told me I could stay here. Please, father. Don't- Please, Don't hurt him."

Uther is still furious, that much I can tell, even with the black dots dancing across my vision. "He's a sorcerer. He must of enchanted you."

"What reason would he have to do such a thing? He didn't even know I was the prince, not until now. If he hadn't purchased me, I question whether or not I'd be alive right now. I certainly wouldn't be here, with you, that's for sure." Arthur takes a breath. "He's a good man."

"No sorcerer is good, Arthur. Take him to the dungeons. He will burn at dawn." The guards grab my arms once more, pulling my back to my feet and towards the door. I can hear Arthur, yelling, begging, but the guards do not stop. The movement makes me viciously dizzy, and it isn't long before unconsciousness sweeps over me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Alright guys! This is the last chapter. Thank you so much for all the support! I honestly didn't think this was one of my better stories, but you guys seem to think otherwise. :3 I really hope you guys enjoy it. I've been trying to think about how to possibly make a sequel and I'm not a hundred percent sure yet, so please don't get your hopes up. I still haven't written a sequel to another story I promised to. He he he... I'm a bad person.**

"So. You're Prince Merlin. You're the one who kept Arthur, my friend, as a slave." I can only nod at the woman, not quite trusting my voice enough to speak. She is quite beautiful, her long, black hair running smoothly down her back. I'm not sure what role she plays, but she is no doubt a noble. That much I can tell, not just from her attire, but by the way she walks, the way she addresses others. She seems quite friendly, to be honest. Too bad were on opposite sides of the bars. "Is it true, what he said? Did you treat him well?"

"He was my friend, always was. I care about him. I'd never hurt him, not intentionally." I swallow, attempting and failing to escape the woman's glare. "I only have until dawn to live. I'd appreciate it if I didn't have to spend that time being interrogated."

"I'm not here to interrogate you."

"Then why are you here?"

The woman hesitates, breathing in deeply. "Arthur wants me to help you escape. Uther won't allow him anywhere near you, so he asked me to do it. I'm just wondering if your worth the risk."

"Let me guess. I'm not."

The soft clang of keys hitting the ground makes my head snap up. "There's a horse waiting for you outside. There will be no guards, that much I've managed. Go, and never come back."

I trade glances between the woman and the keys on the ground, confusion and appreciation rippling through me. "I- thank you."

"Shut up and go, now, before I change my mind."

**~o~**

So there ends the story of the prince and the slave. I escaped in the night as I was told to by the beautiful woman without a name, leaving behind the friend who in which had brought with me into this land. That was a good thing. He would be happy now. He would be with his family. I am glad of that, yet I could not help but feel a pang of sorrow at the thought. I would never see Arthur again. Or so I thought.

I had returned to a corpse, as I once told Arthur I would. The king, my father, had passed during the duration of my trip. I grieved, as any good son would, with little comfort from others. Arthur was one of my only friends; my best friend. I grieved alone. I was crowned the next day. The ceremony was not how I imagined it. It was not happy, or exciting. It was sorrowful.

Years passed. The years were filled with war, mainly against Camelot. I always dreaded that I would see Arthur on the battle field. He never did, which was strange. A prince would always lead his knights into battle. It was tradition among many kingdoms, including Camelot itself.

News of Uther's death hit Azura only a week or so after it had happened. I didn't feel relief like I would of expected to feel. I felt sadness: sadness for Arthur. I know what it feels like to lose a parent, a father. I wouldn't wish that sadness on anyone, especially Arthur.

When a Camelot knight appeared in Azura, I wasn't sure what to think. The knight, Sir Leon, had come to invite us to Camelot in hope for a treaty between our lands. I accepted the offer, though I was afraid. What if Arthur was angry at me? I kept him as a slave. What if this was revenge: a trap. No. Arthur wouldn't do that. He's a good man.

Still, I went to Camelot, two knights at either of my sides. I didn't recognize him at first. He looked so… noble. A golden crown rested upon his equally golden hair, a Camelot red cape down his back. He didn't smile. He just stared at me, and I began to worry. What if he did hate me? What if he would never forgive me?

My worry only increased as he approached me. I unconsciously took a step back, but it didn't stop the blonde king as he wrapped his arms around me, hugging me tightly. I tensed at first, before slowly returning the hug.

"It's good to see you Merlin."

"You too, Arthur. You too."


End file.
